


The Children's Hour

by shadowwalker213



Category: The A-Team (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-10 14:05:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 16,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15293157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowwalker213/pseuds/shadowwalker213
Summary: Vengeance, murder and mayhem...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> http://www.portitude.org/literature/longfellow/pt-childrens_hour.php
> 
> Originally published October 2007

"Hannibal..."  
  
"Look, Face, I'm not any happier about this than you are. But I need Murdock to fly us down there, and, no offense, but BA will be of more use actually taking this guy down than you would be. And you know we can't leave Amy alone, not now."  
  
Face shook his head, resigned. "It would've been nice if Tovey had let us know about these other guys before."  
  
"He had no way of knowing this dirtbag had called in hired guns. Hell, he doesn't even know who this guy is for sure, just that he's working out of San Diego - and that's a little too far from LA to ensure a quick rescue if Amy gets into trouble." Hannibal grinned. "At least she won't be so upset about baby-sitting if she's got some adult company."  
  
"Hey, those three kids are Amy's job. Mine's security. Strictly security."  
  
Hannibal grinned even wider. "Sure, kid. Just be sure to tell her that."  
  
*****  
  
Amy parked the car on the street and looked over at the house. Or at least, the high fence surrounding the property. The house itself was hidden from the street by distance and trees. All but the one high turret. She knew this was one of the original homes in the area and that much of its surrounding land had been sold off over the years. Still, the grounds surrounding what must be a massive Victorian were some twenty acres of thick woods.  
  
It had taken forever to find the house. She'd found the "main drag" without any problem, but after that none of her turns seemed to be where she was told they would be. She was nervous enough under the circumstances. Shivering suddenly, she looked up and down the darkening street. Face was supposed to meet her here, but he was still en route. She picked up the receiver to her car phone, glaring at it. It had stopped working almost as soon as she had driven into this neighborhood. Tossing it back on the seat, she started the car and pulled up to the gate. She would just have to try and call him from the house.  
  
She reached through the car window and rang the buzzer. She expected to hear a voice through the intercom, but instead, the ornate metal gates merely swung slowly open. She took a quick look around to see if there was a camera somewhere, but if there was, it was well hidden. She hesitated before putting the car in gear. She didn't like the look of this place, not one bit.  
  
As she drove along the long narrow drive, she kept glancing to the sides. Nothing but trees and small bushes. She couldn't see the house at all, not even the lights. Between the tree cover and the clouds that had sprung up just before dusk, her only real view was that in the headlights. She began to wish she'd waited for Face to show up.  
  
After what seemed like hours, but was in reality only a few minutes, Amy suddenly drove out of the trees and saw the house, sitting stark and stern in the middle of a large clearing. Cupid-like statues surrounded a formal rose garden in front of the house, the driveway separating them. Amy could see a dim light through the window in the front door; otherwise the house was dark. She frowned. She was supposed to meet the nanny - well, college student - who looked after the kids. But it looked like no one was home. Almost immediately, lights shown through several other windows.  
  
Automatic timers?  
  
Amy glanced in the rearview mirror, hoping to see the headlights from Face's car, but no luck. Gritting her teeth, and chiding herself for being silly, she stepped out of the car and walked determinedly to the front porch. Before she could even reach for the bell, the massive front door opened, revealing the figure of a very tall, thin woman. Amy stepped back involuntarily. Embarrassed, she looked at the woman's face, realizing she was somewhat older than Amy. So, not the nanny.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry. Mrs Tovey? I'm Amy Allen. Your husband..."  
  
"You've come to look after the children."  
  
"Yes, yes, I have. Uh, I'm sorry. Mr Tovey hadn't mentioned that you would be here, too. I was to take over for the nanny."  
  
"There's no one here except me, and the children. I can't stay. I have to leave."  
  
"Oh. Well, is there a number where I can reach you? In case..."  
  
"I have to leave now."  
  
"Okay, well, maybe if you could just introduce me to the children before you go..."  
  
"I have to leave now. I can't stay. Take care of the children."  
  
The woman moved past Amy, off the porch and past the car. Amy watched, perplexed.  
  
"Uh, Mrs Tovey?"  
  
"Take care of the children. Keep them safe."  
  
Amy watched as the woman continued down the drive, eventually disappearing into the woods.  
  
Amy turned, closing the door firmly behind her. Looking around, she saw the steep staircase going up to the still dark second floor. She stepped forward, glancing first to the left, where the formal parlor was dimly lit. Empty. She looked to her right, where the austere dining room held a large table with a pristine white tablecloth, laid out for a meal. It was also empty. The house itself was perfectly still.  
  
Where were the children?


	2. Chapter 2

Face could have sworn he'd driven down this same damn road at least twice already. He glanced at his watch. He should've been at Tovey's place twenty minutes ago. Damn.  
  
He looked around one more time. He knew this area. He'd helped the sweetest little old lady catalog her art collection not more than six months ago, only blocks from here. Hard not to learn your way around when you lived someplace for weeks. And yet, the turn he was looking for just wasn't there. Surely the city hadn't done that much roadwork around here.  
  
There! Almost too late he saw the street sign and made a quick turn. Relieved, he drove for a few more minutes, faster than he really should, knowing Amy would be wondering where he was. He'd tried calling her on her car phone, but got nothing but static, and there was no answer at Tovey's house either. Which didn't improve his mood any. He consoled himself that those goons from San Diego couldn't possibly have gotten up here yet. Maybe Amy had just been busy with the kids.  
  
He sighed. Three little kids and Amy. This was not going to be a good night. Not that he didn't like kids. And he had no problem with Amy, either, although she did have a habit of trying to take charge. But neither she nor Face had a lot of experience with kids. So the combination of the two...he shook his head. Definitely not a good night.  
  
He looked around. The house should be right around here somewhere. He frowned. He knew there were a lot of exclusive estates out here, but this road looked deserted. The houses must really be back from the road. Funny. Tovey hadn't seemed like the über rich type.  
  
He was beginning to think he'd gotten on the wrong road when he rounded a corner and saw the gate. Luckily, one of the very few street lights was close to it, or he never would have seen the gate, let alone the number on it. One more glance at his watch and he pulled up to the gate. He didn't even have a chance to ring the buzzer when the gates started opening. He frowned, then shrugged. Amy must have been watching pretty closely for him. He drove through the gates and watched in the mirror as they began closing almost immediately after him.  
  
He drove through the trees slowly. He did not like this. Anybody coming onto the grounds would have an easy stroll to the house. No way he'd be able to patrol all of this. What the hell had Hannibal been thinking? They should've taken those kids and stashed them in a hotel some place...  
  
Kids. What kind of person threatened a man's children? And the client, Fred Tovey, had no idea who this guy was, or why he was apparently so angry with him. Tovey did run the kind of business that could generate enemies, of course. Buying up old, dilapidated buildings and either tearing them down or refurbishing them. Some of the people living in them didn't want to move, but as far as the team had been able to determine, Tovey had been more than fair in his offers. No, whoever was making these threats wasn't thinking straight, that was obvious.  
  
So involved was Face in his thoughts that he almost rear-ended Amy's car. He slammed on the brakes, and looked around, surprised. The house had practically popped up in front of him. Not good. Once again he sent black thoughts Hannibal's way. Guarding this place was going to be a nightmare.  
  
*****  
  
Amy moved further into the house. She pushed open a swinging door. Kitchen. Very clean, neat. Old. Moving farther into the room, she decided the Tovey's were into restoration. Everything old style, but looking brand new. She spied another set of stairs by the back door, probably leading up to the servants' quarters. She moved over to them, looked up into the darkness.  
  
"Kids?" Damn, she should have insisted Mrs Tovey introduce the girls before she left. Or at least made them come out of hiding. Probably playing a big joke on the new babysitter. "Girls?" She called up the stairwell, grimacing at the dull echo. "Girls? C'mon, joke's over, okay? Come down and we'll get acquainted."  
  
There. She heard that giggle. Practically at the top of the stairs. She looked for a light switch and found it just beside the door. Flicking it did no good, though. It clicked. Nothing more.  
  
"Damn it!" She kept her frustration to herself. She remembered what it was like to pull pranks on adults - the more upset they became, the more fun it was. Until the consequences came, anyway. Shaking her head, wishing she had a flashlight, she started up the stairs. She immediately heard the scurrying of small feet, racing away into the darkness.  
  
"Hannibal, you owe me big time!"  
  
Determinedly, she started up the stairs, feeling her way along the wall. The steps creaked beneath her, and the air was musty. Obviously the family didn't use this stairwell very often. She tried not to think of the myriad tiny creatures that might be watching from the dark corners. Reaching the top, she peered into the darkness. How could anyone see up here, let alone run?  
  
"Girls! Enough is enough. You don't want me to have to tell your parents how naughty you've been, do you?"  
  
The silence was getting oppressive. Amy was about to give up and feel her way back down to the light when she heard the softest shuffle. Down at the end of a long hallway, she could see the faintest of lights, and three small figures moving slowly toward her, dressed in long nightdresses. She forced herself to smile.  
  
"That's better, girls. I don't want to get you into any trouble, but I do think we need to go downstairs now, don't you?"  
  
The tallest of the three stopped, the others hiding behind her.  
  
"I'm sorry, Miss. We were only playing."  
  
Very polite, for all their mischief. Amy smiled more easily. "Don't worry about it. But we should go down now; it's getting chilly up here."  
  
The girls hesitated, but as Amy moved down the stairs, checking behind her to make sure they didn't fall, they slowly followed suit. In a moment they were in the kitchen, and she got a closer look at her three charges. All were rather frail looking, with fair skin and blond, almost white hair. The oldest couldn't be more than seven, the other two maybe six and five. They arranged themselves in a row along the kitchen table, and gazed at her with somber eyes.  
  
"This is better, isn't it? My name is Amy. I'm afraid your mother was in a bit of a rush, and didn't have a chance to tell me yours."  
  
"I'm Mary. This is Linda and Barbara. They don't talk."  
  
"They don't?"  
  
"Only to me. They're too little and afraid to talk to anyone else."  
  
"Ah, well, that's okay. I'm sure we'll get along just fine. Why don't we go into the front room? I'm expecting a friend of mine any time now; we can wait for him together."  
  
Mary looked alarmed. "Oh, no, we aren't allowed in the parlor. Mama doesn't like us in there. She says we could break something."  
  
"Well, I'm sure it will be all right, just for tonight. I know you'll be careful, and if anything does get broken by accident, I'll take the blame." She smiled again, though she wondered at the kind of parenting these girls had.  
  
Reluctantly, Mary nodded. Amy noticed they didn't move until Amy started for the "parlor", and then the younger two each took one of Mary's hands. As they entered the front room, the girls hesitated again, but Amy plopped down on the overstuffed couch and patted it.  
  
"C'mon, sit beside me. Not much chance of breaking anything if you're sitting here."  
  
Moving as one, the girls slowly settled on the couch. Amy noticed they kept their distance from her. Well, she was, after all, a stranger to them.  
  
"My friend should be here very soon. Maybe we can play a game when he gets here."  
  
The girls just looked at her, silent.  
  
"You'll like him. He's very nice."  
  
Silence.  
  
Amy looked around, drumming her fingers on her knees. There was no television, but there were several shelves of books against the wall. Amy stood and walked over, looking for something that might entertain the girls. She didn't recognize many of the titles. Definitely nothing here suitable for kids. She glanced back at the girls, smiling desperately. My lips are going to freeze into a smile pretty soon, she thought.  
  
Suddenly there was a sharp rap at the front door. With an almost audible sigh of relief, Amy headed for the front hall.  
  
"That'll be my friend, girls. You'll like him."  
  
She reached the door and pulled it open. Face stood there, the wind catching his hair. Amy caught a glimpse of distant lightning.  
  
"What's going on, Amy? I've been trying to call you and no one answered. Is everything all right?"  
  
"Everything's fine, Face. The phone never rang. At least, I don't think it did. I don't even know where it is yet. Never mind, you're here now. Come in and close the door. I want you to meet the girls."  
  
She turned and stepped to the parlor door, looking back as Face closed the door against the rising wind.  
  
"They're in here, Face. Girls, I'd like you to meet..." She stopped dead in the doorway.  
  
The parlor was empty.


	3. Chapter 3

"This is the address? You're sure?"  
  
Hannibal looked at Fred Tovey, who'd gone pale as a ghost. "Yeah, Fred, this is the address. The trace on that last call is to an apartment on the fifth floor. Why?"  
  
Tovey licked his lips nervously. "Because that's the apartment building where my ex-wife lives. Her place is on the fifth floor..."  
  
*****  
  
"Nice looking bunch of kids, Amy." Face leaned over her shoulder and sniffed a couple times. "Vodka?"  
  
"Oh, Face, don't be ridiculous! The girls are just very...shy. They must have gone upstairs through the kitchen. That's where they were hiding when I got here."  
  
"Hiding?"  
  
"Just playing a joke on me. C'mon, we'll go up and get them."  
  
"You go up and find them. I'm going to find the telephone. We need to get the girls out of here; there's just no way of defending this place if those goons show up."  
  
Amy stopped, paled. "Do you really think they'll come after children? I thought it was more...extortion."  
  
"Nobody knows what this guy might try, Amy. And now he says he's brought in help...that's why I'm here. And why we're getting out of this place. So you go get the girls, and I'll call Hannibal, let him know we're hitting the road."  
  
Amy nodded and hurried up the main staircase. She didn't feel quite so nervous going into the dark second story, now that Face was close by. She still didn't understand why the girls seemed to prefer being up here, and in the dark.  
  
Reaching the top landing, she tried the wall switch and was greatly relieved when, after a second's hesitation, the ceiling light decided to work. Not that it gave off a great deal of illumination, but at least she could see where she was going. From the landing, a short set of steps went each direction, with a hallway leading to either end of the house. There were several closed doors along each hall, and at the north end, Amy thought she could see a narrow spiral staircase. Probably up to that turret she'd seen from the street.  
  
Now, where would the girls have gone?  
  
"Mary! Mary, where are you? Please come out. Please?"  
  
Once again, Amy heard a soft giggle. She thought it came from the north hall, but she wasn't sure. Sighing with a little more than a slight exasperation, she headed down the hall, and away from the reassuring light.  
  
*****  
  
Face had checked out the front room, the dining room, and the back study, and still hadn't found a phone. Now he stood in the kitchen, wondering if Tovey had hidden the phone somehow, to keep the period look. He was about to head back to the front of the house when he heard a small shuffling. He looked across the kitchen, and there stood a small girl, near what must have been the back stairs. He cocked his head and smiled.  
  
"Hello there."  
  
The little girl smiled back. Not a big smile, but almost...coy. This was obviously the ringleader of the tricksters, and Face knew how to deal with that.  
  
"That was a pretty good disappearing act you pulled, kiddo. Kinda fun, pulling tricks on big people, huh?"  
  
The little girl giggled, and nodded her head. Before Face could say anything more, she turned and ran up the stairs.  
  
Face sighed. Great. Now we're playing hide and seek. He moved quickly to the stairs and looked up. Dark as pitch. Those kids must know this house like the back of their hands, to be able to run all over in the dark. He pulled out his penlight and started up the stairs. Halfway up, the penlight went out. He shook it a couple of times and the light returned. He took two more steps and out it went again.  
  
Damn.  
  
He could either go up the rest of the way, or he could go down and look some more for the phone. A heavy rumble of thunder decided the issue. He could call Hannibal from the motel. The important thing now was to gather up these little hooligans and get out of here, before either the storm or those goons hit this place.  
  
He felt his way up the stairs and took a quick look around. Ironically, it was thanks to the lightning flashing through the windows that he could see anything. He seemed to be in a large room, basically empty. At one end was a large doorway, opening to a hallway. Face could hear giggling from somewhere in the dark. Trying to keep his temper in check, he moved in the direction of the noise.  
  
He'd gone only a short distance down the hall when suddenly the little girl from downstairs stepped around a corner. Face stopped short; he'd been quite sure the hall went straight to the end of the house. Then again, from his search for the phone, he knew there were all kinds of little nooks and crannies; the girl must have been hiding in one of them.  
  
"Hello again. Look, much as I'd like to keep playing with you, we need to get your sisters and go back downstairs, okay? We're going on a little trip, and we need to leave before the storm gets bad."  
  
"But you're supposed to take care of us." The voice was soft, and Face felt himself softening at the gentle plea in it.  
  
"I am going to take care of you, honey. All of you. But we need to go some place safer. Safer from the storm," he amended. No point in scaring the poor kid.  
  
"No."  
  
"What?"  
  
"No. We have to stay here. We have to."  
  
"Look, I know your daddy told you..."  
  
"We have to stay here. You have to take care of us here."  
  
"Listen, I..."  
  
"Face? Are you up here?"  
  
Face turned towards Amy's voice, coming from behind him..  
  
"Yeah, Amy. I found one of them. But she's not being very cooperative." He turned back to the girl, to try and reason with her.  
  
He stared at the empty hallway. Damn! Shaking his head, he moved back to through the large room, trying to see Amy in the gloom.  
  
"Amy? Amy, where are you?"  
  
"Face? I'm down in the kitchen. Did you find them?"  
  
Face came disgustedly down the stairs. "If you'd stayed upstairs long enough to listen, you'd know I did. But then she took off again."  
  
Amy stared blankly at him.  
  
"Face, I just came into the kitchen. I haven't been up the back stairs."


	4. Chapter 4

The men had just barely started their search of the apartment when the door suddenly swung open, and a young woman stood in the entry like a deer caught in the headlights. Before she could turn and run, BA had taken a firm grip on her arm and led her in.  
  
"Who are you people?" She tried to shake loose, but BA was having none of it.  
  
"We're friends of your ex." Hannibal smiled and nodded at Tovey, who was staring at the woman.  
  
"Uh, Colonel - that's not my ex."  
  
"Damn right, I'm not! I'm her secretary. Connie's been out of town for the last three days."  
  
"Three days?" Hannibal's cigar nearly dropped from his lips, as he turned to his client. "That call yesterday came from this apartment. There's no question of that."  
  
The four men turned and looked at the secretary, who had the grace to blush. "Look, I was just doing what I was told. She gave me the key, said to come here, call this number she gave me and play a recording into the phone. I didn't listen to it, I don't know what it was all about, okay?"  
  
"Colonel, that means..."  
  
"Yeah, that means she's probably in LA. Let's go."  
  
*****  
  
"Amy, I'm not in the mood for more gags, okay? It's bad enough these kids are playing their little tricks; I don't need you pulling my chain, too. Let's just find the kids and get the hell out of here."  
  
Stung, Amy was almost reluctant to tell him about her own earlier search for the girls. She had followed the soft voices and little shuffling noises down the front hall. Every time she thought she'd caught up with the girls, the sounds stopped, only to start somewhere further ahead. Finally they had stopped all together. She'd tried the doors to a couple of rooms and found them locked, and then gone back downstairs, making her way to the kitchen.  
  
But Face seemed almost glad to hear about it, and hurried back upstairs.  
  
"Don't you see? That makes perfect sense. The girl, Mary, had to have come through a door between the front of the house and the servants' quarters. That was why she seemed to have disappeared from the front, and suddenly came around the corner in the back. We find that door, and we'll cut off the girls' method of hiding from us."  
  
The first thing Face did was to take Amy to the place where he thought Mary had appeared. She could almost feel the tension rise when he could find no sign of a door. He began moving up and down the hall, checking every room, every closet, every cupboard, calling the girls, his frustration building with each failure. It didn't help that they were stumbling around waiting for flashes of lightning to see. But at the tone of his voice, Amy decided she wouldn't have come out of hiding either.  
  
Face had glared around the main room, straining to see, then pulled his lighter and flicked it open, but the unshielded glare of flame only succeeded in blinding them both. Swearing under his breath, Face then started tapping the walls, checking for a hidden panels. Only when Amy was quite sure they had covered every inch at least three times would Face admit that the girls were not there. Somehow, and he would find out how, they had slipped past and gotten into the main part of the house once more.  
  
She'd once more followed meekly as he marched down the steps to the kitchen, and watched, startled, as he shoved the heavy refrigerator in front of the stairs, blocking anyone from using them. She quickly stepped back as he moved past her.  
  
She was starting to wonder if their problems were coming only from the outside.  
  
*****  
  
Face couldn't look at Amy as he stalked out of the kitchen. He'd been sure he'd heard Amy behind him. He'd also been sure he would find that door upstairs, or some kind of hidden panel.  
  
Now he wasn't sure he'd even talked to that girl, Mary.  
  
He didn't bother checking the downstairs rooms. From what Amy had said, the girls were almost afraid to be anywhere except their little domain above. Now that they couldn't get down the back way, he had them. Yeah, now he had the little...  
  
He stopped short, felt Amy stumble against him.  
  
"You go up and get them. I'm going to get the car."  
  
He didn't listen to Amy's response. He didn't listen to the murmurs he heard from the landing, or the patter of small feet as he passed the foot of the stairs. He stepped out the door and strode across the porch, stumbled down the steps and practically ran to the car. Only then did he stop, looking out at the dark trees, their branches blowing wildly in the high wind. Stood with his hand on the roof of the car, taking deep breaths.  
  
Tried to get the picture of three little bodies out of his head.


	5. Chapter 5

Hannibal settled into his seat, calmly lighting a cigar. Murdock could be heard humming something tuneless in the cockpit, while BA was tightly gripping the arms of his seat. He'd claimed he could handle the short flight to LA, that he needed to be ready if the kids needed him. Hannibal was keeping an eye on him, just in case. Fred Tovey was staring out of the window at the lights far below.  
  
"So, Fred, why don't you tell me a bit more about this ex of yours. Like, why she would threaten her own children."  
  
Tovey's shoulders sagged. "Probably because they aren't hers. I was married before; the children's real mother died shortly after the youngest was born. I met Constance about four years ago. It was the usual rebound romance; I should have known better. I thought she really cared about the kids. But then, a couple years ago, she started getting...well, I can't say abusive, but very strict with them. They started avoiding her. Then she started demanding more and more of my time, wanting to go on weekend trips, cruises - all without the kids. Gradually, I realized that the kids were not only avoiding her, but staying away from me as well, because she was constantly by my side. I don't know what caused the change, but I'd had enough. I divorced her; a messy affair. She fought it tooth and nail, even made a claim for custody of the kids, anything to make me change my mind.  
  
"I realized afterwards that she had only pretended to accept the children; if she hadn't, I never would have married her. But she was jealous of them, the time I spent with them, the attention I gave them - all of which she thought should belong to her. I don't know why I didn't see it right away, but..." He looked bleakly at Hannibal. "I never thought she'd...I never..."  
  
"Well, don't worry, Fred. My man is with the kids now, so they'll be safe. He won't let anything happen to them."  
  
*****  
  
"Face, wait, I..."  
  
Amy watched as Face slammed out of the front door, while muffled voices came from the landing above. She was torn between running after Face to try and calm him down, and finally catching up with the girls. Thinking of the tone of voice Face had used earlier, she decided to go after the girls. The sooner they were all out of here and in a more controlled environment, the better for all.  
  
The girls, apparently finally realizing they had gone too far, were waiting at the end of the north hall, near the spiral stairs. Amy could just see them in the muted light. Linda and Barbara were again holding Mary's hands, heads bowed. Mary looked at Amy with what could almost be described as...fear. Whatever frustration Amy was feeling melted away.  
  
"It's all right, Mary. We're not really mad at you, but we need to stop playing now. We have to leave, go some place else to wait for your parents."  
  
"He's angry."  
  
"No, no, he's not, Mary. He's just...worried. Because of the storm."  
  
"No, he's angry. Because Mama's not here. She should be here."  
  
Amy stopped, puzzled. "Your mother wasn't supposed to be here, Mary. Only your nanny."  
  
"He was supposed to take care of us. But he got angry."  
  
"He will take care of you, Mary." Amy stepped closer, knelt down in front of the girls. "I promise you, Mary, I will take care of you. I won't let anyone hurt you."  
  
"That's what he said, too. But then he got angry. He scared my sisters. So we ran."  
  
Amy straightened. She began to wish she had gone upstairs instead of just calling Face from the kitchen. What had he said to them? She knew he didn't necessarily like kids, but he'd never shown an active dislike for them. At least, not when Amy had been around.  
  
He had certainly been angry when he had come downstairs. Yelling at her. And then shoving the refrigerator in front of the steps, like he was trapping them...  
  
"I promise you, Mary, no one will hurt you. I will take care of you." She smiled as she stood and motioned toward the stairs. "I won't let him hurt you."  
  
No one will hurt my girls...  
  
*****  
  
Face, having paced in the wind for several minutes, finally felt his heart beat was down where it should be. He still had no idea where that monstrous image had come from, but he felt he'd put it far enough out of his mind to deal with reality. And right now, reality was getting into his car. He could have sworn he'd left the doors unlocked when he arrived, but it was locked tighter than a drum now. Not that it was a big deal to break in; he just didn't understand why he'd locked it.  
  
He pulled his picks out, trying to find the right one by feel. A sudden gust of wind blew and he turned his back to it, dropping the picks in the process. He leaned heavily against the car. No way he'd be able to find them in the tall grass, in the dark...  
  
Stupid!  
  
He looked up at the house, then at Amy's car in front of his own; he'd just have to come back for the Vette. He breathed a deep sigh of relief as her door opened. He glanced inside; as expected, small and cramped, but it would do just until they found a decent motel.  
  
He straightened and looked again at the house. If Amy had finally corralled the girls, they would be out of here in just a few minutes. And yet...  
  
He really didn't want to go back in that house.


	6. Chapter 6

"Nothing?"  
  
Tovey shook his head. A thin sheen of sweat covered his forehead, and his hands were trembling, ever so slightly.  
  
"There's no answer. I let it ring and ring and ring...I don't understand. I thought your people were supposed to be there!"  
  
"Just because there's no answer doesn't mean they didn't get there. Maybe they took the kids some place else."  
  
"Wouldn't they have let you know? Somehow?"  
  
Hannibal looked over at BA, who silently shook his head. There'd been no messages left on the phone in the van, nor at the newspaper office. Tovey's house was a good two hour drive from the airfield, and Hannibal knew he had only one choice now. He couldn't take a chance with those kids.  
  
"Better call the cops, Fred. Have them check out the house. We'll check back with them on the way up."  
  
When the cops showed up, Hannibal figured Face and Amy would know what to do. If they were able to...  
  
*****  
  
"You locked yourself out of the car?"  
  
"Yes, Amy, I locked myself out the car. And then I dropped my picks and couldn't find them. Now that we've established that I'm a total klutz, may I please have your keys?"  
  
Shaking her head, Amy came down the steps. The girls remained on the landing, pressed against the back wall where they had taken refuge when Face had come in the door. Amy saw him give them a half-hearted smile as she stepped past, and felt herself relax. A little.  
  
She'd dropped her purse by the front door when she first arrived. Right by the front door. Right next to the potted plant. She was sure of it.  
  
"Problem, Amy?"  
  
"My purse. I put it right here and now it's gone."  
  
"Gone? Are you sure?"  
  
"Well, it isn't here, is it?"  
  
"I mean, are you sure you left it by the door?" Face had come over and was looking over her shoulder.  
  
"Face, I'm not dumb. I left it right here!"  
  
Suddenly Face looked her straight on, and Amy didn't like the way his eyes narrowed. He turned and stared up at the three girls on the landing.  
  
"Oh, no, Face, they wouldn't have taken it."  
  
"You're so sure, are you?" He moved to the bottom of the steps. "Mary, did you take Amy's purse?"  
  
Mary shook her head slowly, eyes never leaving Amy.  
  
Amy came and stood beside him. "I told you they wouldn't take it."  
  
"Then who did?"  
  
"Well, maybe I just thought I left it there. Maybe I left it in the car."  
  
Face glared at her and stalked out into the storm once more. Amy looked up at Mary.  
  
"You promise none of you picked up my purse? Not another little joke, maybe?"  
  
"I promise, Miss. We never touched your bag."  
  
Amy smiled, satisfied. Obviously she'd left the purse, with her keys, in the car. She would have to take some crap from Face about it, but that was a small price to pay if it got them out of here. Amy moved to the door and looked through the small window. She could barely make out Face in the car. There was another huge flash of lightning, and for the first time, Amy realized that this was not just a run of the mill thunderstorm. This was major, and it was coming in fast.  
  
She saw Face getting out of the car, and though she couldn't hear the engine over the wind, she turned to get the girls. That's when she realized they were still clad in only their nightclothes.  
  
She glared up at the ceiling. Never, ever again would she let herself get talked into something like this. Give her bad guys shooting at them any day. It was a lot simpler.  
  
"C'mon, girls, we need to get you into something besides those nightgowns if we're going out in that storm."  
  
"Don't bother." Face had come back in, and the tension in his voice made her whip around. She watched as he slammed the door and bolted it.  
  
*****  
  
Face was surprised and relieved to see the children standing by Amy when he came back inside. It was almost worth enduring the scathing look Amy gave him when he explained the locked car. He was quite sure Hannibal would hear every detail about it later.  
  
As Amy flashed past him for her purse, he looked up at the girls, smiling his most winning smile. The last thing he needed was them to decide to take off again. He fully intended to make sure that didn't happen while Amy was busy digging out her keys. Not on my watch, kiddos.  
  
Then Amy couldn't find her purse.  
  
Great.  
  
He helped her search, but had a pretty good idea of what had happened to it. Amy, of course, refused to see the logic. If she'd left it by the door and now it was gone, there were only three choices as to who had taken it. All standing on the landing.  
  
"Well, maybe I just thought I left it there. Maybe I left it in the car."  
  
Face closed his eyes, silently counting to ten. With one last look at the culprits - all four of them - he headed back outside to search her car.  
  
Her purse, as expected, was not in the car. He looked on the floors, the back seat. Nothing. Meanwhile, the wind was blowing harder; he could actually feel the little car sway with each onslaught. Expediency was called for now, not neatness. He reached under the dash and pulled the wires down. It took a few tries, but finally the engine sparked. He put the car in gear and eased it forward.  
  
That's when he felt the wobble.  
  
He stopped the car and stepped out. Almost immediately the rain started, drenching him in seconds. The lightning, now almost continuous, told him everything he needed to know. He hurried to the Vette, confirming his worst fears.  
  
He looked around the grounds, trying to see what shouldn't be out there, but there was nothing but blowing debris and the grinning cherubs of the rose garden. He had no choice now. He hurried into the house in time to hear Amy telling the girls to get dressed.  
  
"Don't bother." Amy looked back at him, startled. He slammed the door shut, making sure it was bolted, before turning back to her.  
  
"Someone's slashed the tires."


	7. Chapter 7

The van was moving along the freeway fast. They'd made one quick stop, so Tovey could call the local cop and see what they'd found at his house. On hearing the report, BA had stepped on the gas and hadn't let up.  
  
The desk sergeant had been abrupt; no one had been able to get out to Tovey's house to check on anything because of a massive electrical storm. Power was on and off all over the area; police and spotters were out in force, trying to direct traffic and watch for any fires set off by the lightning. They had more important things to do than check on a phone that was out of order.  
  
The rain hit, and hit hard, when they were still miles from their destination. BA reluctantly slowed down, fighting both the torrents of water and the heavy wind that was buffeting the van all over the road. He didn't know if he was glad or not when their exit came up. They'd be on a two lane road now, with little maneuvering room. But hopefully, most people would be smart enough to stay home and off the road.  
  
*****  
  
Connie had pulled the Thomas Guide out of the side pocket and looked at the cover. It was supposed to be the latest edition, but someone must have gotten their wires crossed. It was the fourth time she'd passed that same school and still hadn't found her turn. She tossed the book onto the passenger seat and drove through the red light. She wasn't worried about that. She hadn't seen another car for at least an hour.  
  
She had driven several more blocks before she finally saw the turn. Some time later, as she finally saw the open gate to the property, she cursed Fred soundly under her breath. Only he would pick such a God-forsaken place to live. That would change.  
  
A lot of things would change now.  
  
She had parked the car as soon as she saw the glimmer of light from the house, and continued on foot. She knew the nanny would be there, but was surprised to see two cars. Even more surprised to see the man moving around them. She hadn't expected the nanny to have company.  
  
Moments after he had gone back into the house, she hurried over to the cars, hefting the butcher knife. No quick getaways. Not for them.  
  
*****  
  
Amy, at Face's direction, had taken the children to the top of the stairs, and they waited outside the perimeter of the light in the north hall. Face was downstairs, checking the windows and doors, turning on every working light on the main floor.  
  
Amy had the girls sit on the floor a few feet behind her. She, herself, knelt as close as she could to the edge of the light's circle, where she could clearly see the stairs and entry hall. She had no weapon; Face had told her all she had to do was yell if she saw anything and he would be there in seconds.  
  
She wasn't reassured.  
  
She glanced back at the girls. The two youngest almost seemed to be dozing, settled against the wall, heads down. Mary, however, was wide awake, and watching Amy. There was definitely fear in her eyes, and yet, Amy thought there was almost a resignation there as well. She smiled at the girl, and a single tear ran down Mary's cheek.  
  
"It'll be all right, Mary. We won't let anything happen to you."  
  
"I know you'll try, Miss."  
  
Amy sighed. "We'll both try, Mary, and we'll do it. Nothing's going to happen."  
  
"If you say so, Miss."  
  
Amy turned back around, looking again down into the entry. She wondered where Face was. It shouldn't have taken this long to check the house. Didn't he understand how scared these kids would be? Did he remember she had no weapon of any kind? Or had something happened to him? No. No, she would've heard any kind of racket like a fight. And Face would've put up a fight. He was a Green Beret, after all. Probably running around setting all kinds of booby-traps. Involved in his own style jazz, forgetting all about three frightened little girls.  
  
She glanced back at them. They were scared, all right. But putting their trust in the adults. She looked down at the empty and silent entry.  
  
Where the hell was he?  
  
She stood, looking once more at Mary. Correction. Putting their trust in Amy.  
  
"Stay right here, okay? I'm just going down to the landing to check on things."  
  
Mary nodded solemnly in the shadows, and put her arms protectively around her sisters.  
  
Amy turned and looked once more at the entry way, the front door. She swallowed, and started down the hall to the stairs. Lightning flashed angrily through the tall windows over the landing, followed almost immediately by booming thunder. She could hear the trees by the back door scratching against the windows. Slowly she started down the stairs.  
  
*****  
  
Face had checked and locked every window downstairs, and after making sure the back door was locked, had placed a chair under the knob. He'd thought about moving the refrigerator over to block it, but decided he wanted to keep that route inaccessible. Maybe he hadn't found a way to the front from up there, but that didn't mean there wasn't one. He wanted their backs covered.  
  
He'd turned on every light he could find, but evidently the Tovey's were still getting the electrical work done; most of them failed to turn on, and those that did seemed to have very little current. It was like walking in candlelight. But at least he didn't have to worry about someone sneaking up on them in the dark.  
  
He cautiously moved back through the house, double-checking every room, revolver now ready in his hand. The lights would expose anyone who got into the house, but they left him exposed as well. He stayed close to the walls, and slid quickly past the windows. He could practically feel eyes watching from the woods beyond the house.  
  
There was a sudden stroke of lightning, brilliant and blinding. Any lights burning in the house immediately blacked out. Face stopped, waiting for his eyes to adjust, and then moved with increased urgency into the front parlor. He stood to one side of the large picture window, looking out into the storm. He could see the rose garden from there, the ghostly white cherubs highlighted with every flash of lightning.  
  
Grinning at him.  
  
He felt a cold shiver run through his stomach, akin to what he'd felt the first time he'd noticed the saints staring down at him from the sanctuary walls. He shook his head, closed his eyes tightly for a moment, then cautiously looked out once more.  
  
They were still grinning at him.  
  
He swung around, back against the bookshelves. He hated this. He should've gotten them out of here sooner. Before it got so dark. Before this storm hit. Before those bastards showed up and slashed the tires. He should have. And he would have, if it hadn't been for the girls and their tricks. If Amy had kept an eye on them the first time she had them rounded up. If she had just done what she was supposed to. And now he'd have to explain this fuck-up to Hannibal.  
  
He looked out toward the entry hall, to the stairway. He couldn't see it, or the landing, or the hall where Amy and the girls waited. At least he hoped they were waiting there. At this point, they'd better be.  
  
The last thing he wanted to do was shoot a friendly...


	8. Chapter 8

Amy stood on the step just below the landing. The flashes of light through the windows were like a strobe, and she felt for the banister. She could feel her heart battering her chest as she slowly made her way down the steps. She should go back up to the girls; they had to be scared to death now. But she needed to find Face. She had to know where he was.  
  
"Face?"  
  
She had no idea if her loud whisper would carry over the noise of the storm. She stared ahead, waiting for the next flash so she could get her bearings. As long as she held the banister, she was all right, but when she got to the entry, it would be a whole other story.  
  
Two more steps.  
  
"Face? Dammit, where are you?"  
  
She reached the floor of the entry. Again, she looked around, trying to make out her surroundings.  
  
"Face!"  
  
"Over here, Amy."  
  
She nearly choked at the sudden, soft voice behind her. She whirled around, thought she saw a figure to her left.  
  
"Face, where..."  
  
"In here, Amy." He stepped away.  
  
She could've killed him. They were in the dark, the kids were upstairs alone, there was some maniac out on the grounds, and he decides to play follow the leader.  
  
Her jaw clenched, she felt her way into the dining room.  
  
*****  
  
Face moved slowly, feeling his way along the wall, trying not to trip over the furniture. Why did there seem to be so much more in this room when it was dark than when the lights were on? He thought he was almost out of the parlor when he heard Amy. He didn't know if he should be glad of the reference point, or angry because she had moved from her position. When he banged his shin, hard, he knew.  
  
When his feet left carpet and touched linoleum, he knew he was in the entry. He stopped and waited for the lightning. Consecutive lightning flashes only added to his irritation. Amy had apparently gone back upstairs. The entry was empty.  
  
He grabbed the banister and hurried up the stairs. He nearly tripped again moving from the landing to the next set of steps, but kept his balance.  
  
"Amy?"  
  
Keeping one hand on the wall, he moved down the hall, where Amy and the girls were supposed to be waiting.  
  
"Amy? Mary? Somebody answer me!"  
  
His only answer was the sound of small feet hurrying down the hall. Away from him.  
  
*****  
  
"Face, enough is enough! We have to get back to the kids. Face? Face!"  
  
"You're so concerned about them, yet you left them. Why was that, Amy?" Again, the voice was soft, calm, but with a hint of derision.  
  
"I got...worried. You were gone so long. Too long."  
  
"You're supposed to stay with them. That is your job. To protect them."  
  
"All right, all right. So it's my job. But now we both need to get back up there. Those men are probably trying to find a way into the house right now."  
  
"That's not your concern. Your concern is the children. Remember?"  
  
"Face, damn it, it's up to both of us to protect them!"  
  
She stared into the darkness. No windows in here. No light. No sound.  
  
"Face?"  
  
No light. No sound.  
  
*****  
  
He moved down the hall, found the next door and slowly, carefully opened it, trying to make as little noise as possible. He was fully expecting it to be as empty as the other two he'd checked. He had lost all patience now. Dammit, he'd told Amy to stay with those kids. Why the hell couldn't she listen, just once?  
  
"Amy!"  
  
His whisper was hoarse, loud enough, he hoped, that she would hear; soft enough, he hoped, that no one else would. He was quite sure he'd heard something from downstairs, most likely at the back of the house. Voices. Muffled, but definitely voices.  
  
Well, almost definitely. After that crap with Amy in the kitchen, who the hell knew?  
  
He took a quick glance into the room, knowing damn well he wouldn't be able to see anyone. He was about to close the door when he stopped. There had been something, like an intake of breath.  
  
"Amy? Mary?"  
  
"The children aren't here."  
  
Face didn't know whether to kiss her or kill her. "Amy, dammit, where are they? And why didn't you answer me?"  
  
"They're safe. I made sure of that."  
  
"Yeah, well, would you like to let me in on the secret so I don't shoot them by mistake?"  
  
"I won't let that happen. You won't hurt them."  
  
"Amy, that's exactly why I...dammit, Amy, I'm trying to protect them, not hurt them!"  
  
"Are you so sure of that?"  
  
"What the hell are you talking about?"  
  
"You don't think I noticed? You don't think I saw the way you looked at them?"  
  
Face didn't know what to say. He knew he'd been angry, terrifically angry. But hurt them? No, never...  
  
Then he remembered that vision, that picture, of the three little bodies. Clad in their nightgowns, lying in the grass. He'd been looking down at them. Down from a great height, so they were so small and...tidy.  
  
So quiet.  
  
He shook his head, trying to clear the image. He looked into the room again, trying to see Amy. If he could see her, he could explain. He wouldn't hurt the girls. They just had to quit playing those stupid games. That's all.  
  
If they would just...quit.


	9. Chapter 9

The van had pulled into the outskirts of the city now. BA's fingers drummed on the steering wheel as they slowly made their way through backed up traffic. Up ahead they could see lights flashing from police cars, fire engines; even the street lights were stuttering. Hannibal could see water rushing through the ditches, swirling around already flooded storm drains.  
  
He knew the client wanted to stop at the police station, or call, anything to try and find out if anyone had been out to his house. But there was no way. If they got off the main road now, it would take forever to get back on. Besides, it was obvious the police had their hands full.  
  
And still the storm raged on.  
  
*****  
  
Face leaned against the wall in the hallway; his head was buzzing, his stomach rolling. He had no idea how long he'd been standing there; he didn't remember leaving that room, or where Amy had gone. But he remembered what she'd said. The way she'd accused him...  
  
He looked up and down the hall.  
  
Empty.  
  
She was somewhere in the house. And she'd hidden the children. Hidden them from him. Taking over, as usual. Well, Hannibal wasn't here to run interference this time. This time, she'd learn damn well who was in charge.  
  
Slowly he straightened up. He had a job to do.  
  
*****  
  
Amy felt her way out of the dining room, found the banister and started moving up the steps. She felt disoriented; too long in the dark, too many kaleidoscope effects from the storm. Everything was out of sync. Including her.  
  
She jumped at yet another crash of thunder. She'd left the girls alone too long. Much too long. She knew they had probably hidden somewhere, frightened of being alone, the storm...Face. And that would just make him angry all over again.  
  
The children. They were the important thing. Not his ego. If the girls had hidden themselves again, she had to find them first. There was no way she'd let him go at them after they'd made a fool of him again. Not after hearing that contempt in his voice.  
  
She moved past the landing, up the second set of steps, into the hallway, the lightning growing ever brighter, more and more frequent. The thunder seemed to be one continual growl. The wind seemed intent on blowing every bit of debris it could against the house, the windows. She heard glass breaking downstairs.  
  
Somewhere out there, some maniac was trying to get her girls.  
  
Somewhere in here, he was.  
  
*****  
  
Connie wiped the blood from her arm onto her shirt tail. It always looked so easy on television. Break the glass, reach in and unlock the window, and voilà! you're in. She'd have to find some way of explaining that cut now, but that shouldn't be too hard. It really wasn't that big. Too bad about the shirt, though.  
  
The window didn't exactly slide open, either. More a series of jerks. She stopped for a moment, catching her breath and listening. She didn't hear anyone coming to investigate, but then the storm probably hid any noise. She climbed over the sill, after dropping the butcher knife carefully on the floor. She was glad she was wearing gloves, as there were small shards of glass on the sill.  
  
Another thing they didn't show on television.  
  
Now that she was actually in the house, she could hear muffled voices upstairs. The man and the nanny. Hmm. Lovers' quarrel? She smiled grimly. Too bad they'd be going to Eternity mad at each other.  
  
It was sheer luck the power had gone out. That guy turning on the lights would have made it a lot more difficult. But then, Connie was used to difficult. Look at Fred. He had to be difficult. If he'd just been more of a husband, less the doting father, none of this would be necessary.  
  
She glanced at her watch. Her secretary should've made that phone call by now, played the tape for Fred's answering machine. God, she'd hated making that groveling, "please reconsider" crap. But it was necessary. Now she had an alibi. Couldn't be at home calling the ex-hubby and up here, getting rid of...impediments.  
  
She pulled out the penlight and turned it on. Frowned.  
  
Dead.  
  
Connie shook her head. Nothing's ever easy...  
  
*****  
  
She had just gotten to the north hall when the light above the landing flickered on. She stopped, as even that sudden, though small illumination made her head ache. Looking down the hall, she saw that four of the six doors were standing open.  
  
He'd been searching for them.  
  
She'd taken only a few more steps when he came out of a room toward the end of the hall. He, too, blinked at the light, before staring at her, eyes narrowed.  
  
"Where are they?"  
  
"Hiding, I imagine. You frighten them."  
  
"Bullshit. I expect them to do as they're told. I expect you to do as you're told."  
  
"I'll do what's best for those children."  
  
"And what would you know about children?"  
  
About to respond, her attention was suddenly drawn to the end of the hall. Mary and her two sisters stood just in front of the spiral staircase, staring at the two of them. Mary was quietly crying.  
  
He saw her look past him, and turned.  
  
"So, come out of hiding at last. You like sneaking around the house, don't you?"  
  
Mary looked at him, and moved back a step.  
  
"Not many places to hide now, are there?"  
  
"Haven't you done enough?" She slipped past him, placing herself in front of the girls. Hands on hips, she glared back at him.  
  
For a moment, he hesitated. He felt a split second of vertigo, then his vision cleared and he saw the girls had moved further back, closer to the staircase.  
  
She, of course, hadn't given an inch.  
  
"What business is it of yours, anyway? They aren't your children." He laughed bitterly. "If you only knew..."  
  
"They're in my care, and I will not let any harm come to them."  
  
"We'll see about that." He took a quick step forward, grabbing for her arm. She pulled away, and turned toward the children.  
  
"Up, quickly! Go!"  
  
Mary cast one fearful glance back before following her sisters up the steps. Her protector turned back to ward him off.  
  
He grabbed her by the arms, trying to push her aside, to get to the steps. She, in turn, shoved with all her might, and the two of them fell to the floor. His head smacked the floor, momentarily stunning him. Taking advantage, she leaped up and ran for the steps.  
  
The tower formed a small sitting area at this level. Looking down and seeing him already coming up the steps, she grabbed first a lamp, then the tiny table it had been on, and threw them with all her strength down the stairs. The lamp struck his shoulder, the table merely blocked the narrow steps momentarily.  
  
"Quickly!" She motioned the girls up the last flight of steps to the widow's walk. All three were now crying openly, knowing they had no place to go after that.


	10. Chapter 10

The voices had quieted, and Connie slowed in her trek across the back parlor. She couldn't afford to get caught now.  
  
She had just reached the front room when the lights reluctantly came back on. She stopped, like a deer caught in the headlights, but the room was empty. Above the rising wind, she could hear the people upstairs start in again. There was something different about them, but she wasted no time worrying about it. Time was wasting.  
  
She made it up to the top of the stairs when she heard the noise from the end of the hall. The first sounded like glass breaking, and then something heavier, wooden. Whatever those two were arguing about, apparently it had gotten physical. She smiled. Maybe they'd save her some trouble and kill themselves off. Then again, she didn't want to step into the middle of something that could get her killed.  
  
And where were those kids while all this was going on?  
  
She started checking the rooms as she made her way down the hall. If luck was really on her side, she could take care of those brats without even seeing the others. Let them explain to the cops.  
  
*****  
  
They faced each other, breathing hard, neither giving an inch. He'd looked surprised when she held her ground, not allowing him to follow the girls, and it gave her a momentary feeling of triumph. But only momentary. He made as if to push past her; only the old umbrella slammed against the side of his head stopped him. Under other circumstances, it might have been comical. The look on his face was anything but.  
  
"Why do you care what happens to them?" He stood back, wiping the blood from his temple.  
  
"Why do you hate them so?"  
  
He stopped dabbing at the blood, and again laughed bitterly. "I don't hate them. I hate their whore of a mother. You know as well as I do where she is this very moment."  
  
She stared at him. The Missus. Smiling sadly as she'd left that night...she shook her head, blinked quickly. Something wasn't right.  
  
"But...your children?"  
  
"Are you so sure of that? Maybe you haven't seen her paramour. At least, I don't think she's been brazen enough to bring him here."  
  
"But they're still just children."  
  
"And I'm done with them! Just as I'm done with her and her lies!"  
  
He took a step toward her and the stairs she guarded. She raised the umbrella once more, but this time she pointed it at him. Now he had a choice - stand back or be stabbed. He stopped, glaring at her.  
  
And then they heard another crash from down below.  
  
*****  
  
She had just opened the second door when the wind, siphoning through the broken window downstairs, rushed through the hall. It wrenched the door from her hand and slammed it into the wall. Seconds later, she heard a yell from up above, followed by a heavy thud.  
  
She hesitated, taking a firmer grip on the butcher knife, and then headed for the staircase.  
  
This was not in the plan.  
  
*****  
  
He took advantage of the distraction. As soon as she looked down the stairwell, he grabbed the umbrella and her and threw them both against the wall. She was just a little thing, really. A sharp crack when she hit, and she slumped down, nice and quiet.  
  
He didn't bother with whatever was downstairs, but went straight for the stairs.  
  
He had a job to do.  
  
*****  
  
"How much further, Fred?"  
  
"Just a couple miles. Take the first turn after the S-curve up ahead."  
  
"How familiar is your ex with the layout of the house? Would she be able to hide out easily?"  
  
"She's never been to this house. I moved shortly after the divorce, and I, uh, didn't let her know where. She got the address, of course; she did have a few friends left. But to my knowledge, she's never actually been there."  
  
"Okay, so our guys have the advantage of knowing the layout of the house..."  
  
"Well..."  
  
Hannibal frowned at Fred. " 'Well' ?"  
  
"Well, it is what you might call an estate..."  
  
*****  
  
Connie stood at the bottom of the spiral stairs. She didn't particularly like the looks of them, but that's where all the racket had come from. She started up, holding the rail with her left hand, the butcher knife in her right. She stepped carefully around the debris on the steps. Those two had had quite the fight, all right.  
  
As she reached the top of the first flight, she stopped and tried to adjust to the darkness. The only light up here came intermittently from the storm outside. She pulled out her penlight and was relieved when it actually worked. Just enough so she could see the body laying on the floor in the far corner. She started towards it. She needed to know if the woman was still alive, and if so, how much of a threat she might be.  
  
She had just knelt down to check for a pulse when she heard the first scream from above.  
  
*****  
  
It wasn't hard to see them, cowering in the corner. Little white nightgowns, pale faces, white-blond hair. The two smallest huddling close to Mary, staring up at him.  
  
Her children.  
  
Her bastards.  
  
He stepped towards them.  
  
*****  
  
Connie was no longer sure what was going on. Gripping the butcher knife, she left the body by the wall, and started up the steps.  
  
Very slowly.  
  
*****  
  
The van bounced over yet another large branch. Hannibal no longer cared about any element of surprise; the feeling of urgency was almost physical. BA wanted to race up the long drive, but there was too much debris from the storm littering the blacktop. Murdock had wanted to take off on foot, but it was obvious they'd never be able to find their way through the dark woods.  
  
And then the house was in sight.  
  
*****  
  
The wind was blowing wildly at the top of the turret, the widow's walk open to the elements. Connie thought she'd heard more screams, and shouting, but it was hard to tell with the storm's fury. The rain was pelting her now, as she climbed the last step. At first she didn't see anything, and then a barrage of lightning showed a man, leaning over the railing, looking down into the darkness. Before she could react, he turned, staring at her.  
  
*****  
  
It was instinct. He turned, and saw her standing there. Wide-eyed. And then he saw the butcher knife. His eyes narrowed, and a cruel smile crept across his face.  
  
"Come to say goodnight to your children, my love?"  
  
*****  
  
Amy slowly opened her eyes. Her head hurt like hell. She started to sit up, and gasped at the sharp pain in her back. She was able to lean on her elbow and look around, confused. There was a sudden short flash of lightning, and she remembered where she was.  
  
And what had happened.  
  
"Oh, God, no." It had to have been a nightmare. She hadn't said those things, Face hadn't gone after the girls. No. No.  
  
She struggled to her feet, and staggered to the stairs. The storm seemed to be abating, with only occasional rumbles in the distance, and the rain against the windows was a quiet patter. She grasped the railing, and hauled herself painfully up the steps.  
  
She reached the top of the steps just as the moon broke through the clouds. Face stood near the railing, staring bleakly at her, holding his side where blood slowly seeped between his fingers. He was alone.  
  
"Face?" Feeling sick, she took a step toward him, unsure, afraid.  
  
He looked at her, and when he spoke, his voice was cracking.  
  
"My God, Amy, what have I done?"  
  
*****  
  
It had been so easy.  
  
Looking up at him with those eyes. Her eyes. Not his. Nothing about them was his.  
  
They never made a sound. Just...looked at him. Like they were always looking at him. But even as he stepped over to them, even as he grabbed the two youngest and stepped to the railing, not a sound.  
  
Only when he let go. Mary screamed then. But in the time it took him to turn around, she'd calmed. She just looked at him.  
  
Just like her mother did.  
  
When it was done, he stood at the rail, looking down, through the branches, into the darkness. Just those little white nightgowns glowing in the moonlight.  
  
He shook his head. He'd...he'd seen that before. He'd seen...  
  
His breath started coming fast, shallow. He kept looking down at them. Kept looking...  
  
And then he heard a step behind him.  
  
He turned. And there she was. He forgot about everything else. He saw the knife, and he smiled. The doting mother, come to rescue her whelps.  
  
He wasn't surprised when she smiled back at him. Nor when she raised the knife. It did surprise him at how quick she was. But she made a big mistake, when that knife only sliced across his side.  
  
Unlike her daughters, she screamed.  
  
All the way down.  
  
He'd stood for a long time at the rail. Looking at them. And then the pain in his side grew, and his head felt fuzzy. The longer he looked down, the more the pain grew, and grew.  
  
And then he heard Amy's voice.  
  
"Face?"


	11. Chapter 11

BA shut off the parking lights as soon as they saw the house. Tovey started to open the door, but Hannibal stopped him.  
  
"You wait right here, Fred. I mean it. Let us handle it."  
  
Hannibal sent BA around to one side, Murdock the other. He himself moved up on the front of the house, crouched behind the long, low hedge that bordered the drive. When he was close enough to see the front door, he stopped and waited. Moments later, his radio clicked once, followed in seconds by two clicks.  
  
His men were in position, and so far not a sign of movement within the house. Hannibal's jaw tightened. Face would know they were here. He would have signaled, somehow. If he could.  
  
He pressed the button on his own radio. Move in. Slowly.  
  
*****  
  
They had slid, more than walked, down the spiral steps. Face was mumbling about some woman, and a knife. But mostly he kept saying one thing, over and over.  
  
"Mary."  
  
Amy was having a hard time keeping her own mind on business. Her memories of what had happened over the past hours were convoluted and frightening. Over-riding all of it was one thing. That Face, regardless of whatever circumstances had caused all of this, had murdered three children.  
  
And according to him, some woman she had no memory of at all.  
  
She had stumbled to the railing, looking over despite her revulsion. It was too dark, and the branches of the trees were in the way, but she could see something white on the ground below. She'd almost lost it herself, right there, but one look at Face and the instincts born of running with the team kicked in.  
  
They had to find Hannibal. Hannibal would get it straightened out, one way or another.  
  
*****  
  
BA had moved carefully through the trees along the side of the house until he could see the back of the house. When Hannibal's signal came, he hurried across the open area between the house and the pool and stopped at the back door. He carefully tried the handle, and pushed the door open. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust before he stepped carefully through the kitchen.  
  
Murdock, on the other side of the house, crept up to a window and gave it a slight tug. His anxiety rose a notch when it slid open easily. He pulled himself in and got his bearings. From the furnishings, he decided he was in the client's study. He forced himself to breathe slowly, and moved forward.  
  
Using his penlight, Hannibal cautiously checked the front door for any booby traps or alarms. No telling what Face might have done if he realized the threat coming, but the door was clean. Inserting the key, Hannibal carefully unlocked the door and stepped inside.  
  
He couldn't help but think it had been the easiest front door maneuver he'd ever had.  
  
*****  
  
They stopped at the top of the main stairs, and Amy adjusted Face's arm over her shoulders. He was mainly standing on his own, but didn't seem to notice where they were going. He still held his hand tightly to his side, and Amy knew they had to bind it up somehow. That near freefall down from the widow's walk had not helped. But she had bigger concerns about him.  
  
By the time they got downstairs, Face's mumblings, what she could understand of them, were taking on an alarming tone, particularly when she realized he still had his revolver. She had thought to go and check the bodies, but she dared not leave him alone. Reluctantly, she admitted to herself that no one would have survived a fall from that height. Especially...  
  
She pushed those thoughts from her mind, concentrated on getting them to the kitchen. She settled Face in a chair and started searching for something to bandage his side. She thought briefly about anyone who might be outside, and bitterly dismissed them.  
  
Their job had already been done.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock had wandered out to the van. He, like the others, was worried and confused. The house had been empty and dark. Hannibal had found the phone in the living room, but it had, indeed, been dead. Hannibal had been able to reassure the client somewhat. There had been no sign of a break-in, or other "damage".  
  
He climbed into the front seat, and half-heartedly checked the answering machine for the van's phone. Hannibal and BA, joined now by Tovey, were going over the house one more time. Murdock would wait in the van, hoping someone would try to contact them.  
  
*****  
  
Amy looked around, trying to remember the area around the house. They had to get to a phone. A working phone. She had no idea how close the nearest neighbor's house was, but she did know there had been no phone booths on the road in front. Coaxing Face along, she could only hope she was heading in the direction of help.  
  
Face had fallen silent once out of the house, and Amy wasn't sure he even knew where they were any more. He simply went where she did. He was shivering now; she could feel the tremors as they worked their way through the trees. At least concentrating on Face and their current problems kept her from thinking about other things.  
  
She took another look around. The storm seemed to have completely dissipated now. Only an occasional cloud skittered across the full moon, and the wind was more of a light breeze. Amy thought they must be getting close to another road, as the trees were thinning and she thought she could see lights in the distance.  
  
*****  
  
The four men were back in the van, driving to another house a few miles from Tovey's. During the second search, BA had found a note from the nanny lying on the floor of the study. Apparently it had blown off the desk when Murdock entered through the window. The nanny, alarmed at the storm and then finding the phone out of order, had taken Tovey's children to her mother's house.  
  
She hadn't mentioned either Amy or Face.  
  
They had just pulled into the driveway. Tovey had already jumped out of the van and run to the front door. The others were starting to follow when the phone in the van rang. BA grabbed it, listened for a moment, and started talking, low and fast. Hannibal listened as best he could; he was worried about BA's tone, the one he used when talking to his kids at the day care. BA hung up abruptly, and started the van.  
  
"Get in. They're at a gas station across town, and Amy don't sound good."


	12. Chapter 12

Amy climbed stiffly out of the van and stood, trying to get her bearings. Hannibal, too, was looking around, cigar smoldering, a deep frown on his face. He looked at her doubtfully. Not that she blamed him. All around her, students were going about their lives, hurrying to classes, talking in groups, studying in the shade of the trees that lined the main avenue of the small college.  
  
They'd been cruising every street around the gas station for what seemed like hours, trying to find anything Amy thought looked familiar. This was the second time they'd ended up here.  
  
"Let's just go a little further. Up this way." She looked at him over the hood of the van. "Please."  
  
Hannibal didn't say a word, but climbed back behind the wheel of the van. Silently they drove down the road.  
  
*****  
  
They stumbled out of the woods and across a small field. The bright lights of the gas station hurt her eyes and she squinted as she pulled the two of the to a halt. She had to find a place to leave Face where she could keep an eye on him and yet keep him out of sight of any others. Two people running out of nowhere would attract enough attention; one of them being covered in blood would wreak havoc.  
  
They came in at an angle, and Amy saw two phone booths along the side of the building. Doors to the restrooms were between the phones and the back of the building, which was lit only by a single, dim security light. Several boxes were stacked at the back.  
  
Not perfect, but it would do  
  
Face sat on one box, eyes closed, leaning heavily against the back of the building. Under the lights, he looked nearly as pale as...Amy swallowed, blinking back tears. Just hold on a little longer, she thought. She started to leave for the phone, then stopped and gingerly reached under Face's jacket and pulled his gun from its holster. Not knowing exactly what to do with it now, she reached up and laid it carefully high on top of another stack of boxes.  
  
One more glance at Face, and she stepped around the corner to the phone booths.  
  
*****  
  
The van came slowly around a curve, coming to an abrupt stop. Up ahead, several police vehicles were parked, lights flashing. An ambulance was pulling into a tree-lined drive, toward one of the many brick-faced college buildings, with the usual flat roof and institutional windows. Hannibal looked questioningly at Amy as he pulled the van to the side and parked. She shrugged, shaking her head.  
  
"Well, something's obviously happened." He sighed. "I can throw a cap on, sunglasses, see what I can find out."  
  
"No, Hannibal. We're in enough trouble. I'll go."  
  
Hannibal frowned. "You up to it, kid?"  
  
Amy swallowed. She wasn't, not really, but Hannibal couldn't just waltz up to the law, and she had to know. She had to. Nodding, she slowly got out of the car.  
  
*****  
  
When BA answered the phone, Amy couldn't help herself. She started crying and knew she was close to losing it completely. She was grateful it was BA. She couldn't have taken Hannibal's questions, or Murdock's craziness right now. Slowly BA's low but stern voice brought her back to earth, and she was at least able to tell him where they were. He told her to wait behind the station with Face and they would come and get them.  
  
When he hung up, she almost called him right back. She didn't want to let go of that line to safety. Shakily, she stepped out of the booth, checked to see if she had drawn any attention, and practically ran back to Face. She reached up and grabbed the gun before sitting down next to him.  
  
She was still holding it in her lap when the van pulled up.  
  
*****  
  
The cop on duty at the end of the drive didn't exactly look friendly, but if anyone would know what had happened, he would. She tried to appear casual; no sense drawing attention to herself.  
  
The cop shook his head disgustedly. "Some broad jumped off the clock tower last night. Couple of students found the body this morning."  
  
Amy looked through the trees, now seeing the rather pretentious tower at the corner of the building. "Jumped?"  
  
"Yeah. Don't know why people do that...hell of way to go." He turned his attention to the slowing traffic, and Amy moved away.  
  
She followed the sidewalk around the curve as far as she was allowed, looking. She knew that was the curve in the road, and the way the drive turned...it had to be.  
  
But it couldn't be.  
  
Then she saw, in the distance, her car, the Vette parked close behind it. Parked on a side street, several yards from where the ambulance now sat. From where that woman...  
  
She felt another wave of dizziness coming, and quickly found a bench in the shade. She plopped down, putting her head down, holding her temples. None of this was making any sense.  
  
*****  
  
Amy let out a deep breath. She was sitting on the bed at the motel, Hannibal, BA and Murdock seated around her. Face sat at the small table by the window, head resting on his arms. He hadn't said a word since they left the house, silent even as they re-did the bandage on his side. He'd sat down at the table and stared at the wall until Amy started telling the others what had happened. That's when he'd put his head down, refusing to look at anyone.  
  
She looked up, exhausted from their questions, and waited to hear what Hannibal wanted to do. She was startled to see all three of looking totally confused.  
  
"What?"  
  
Hannibal cleared his throat, and glanced over at Face. "Amy, we were at Tovey's house, and it definitely isn't some old Victorian mansion. There was a woods, of sorts, but no rose garden, no broken window, and definitely no tower. The nanny took Tovey's kids over to her mother's house when the phones went out. He's there right now, and they're all just fine."  
  
*****  
  
"Amy?" She looked up, startled. Hannibal was sitting beside her on the bench, frowning so deeply he almost looked like BA.  
  
"Oh, Hannibal, I'm sorry. Some woman killed herself last night. Jumped from...that tower."  
  
Hannibal looked over at the clock tower, a typical new brick structure trying to look old and dignified.  
  
"You think that's where your house was?"  
  
Amy shook her head. "I don't know, Hannibal. But I have to find out what happened last night, and why. Not only for myself. Face..."  
  
Hannibal sighed, shoulders sagging. "Yeah. I have to tell you, kid, if it weren't for the way he's acting, I don't know if I'd have believed any of this. But something happened to you two last night, and we're going to find out what."


	13. Chapter 13

The television had been droning on all day yesterday, more to fill the long silences than to watch. When the local news came on, no one really noticed at first. Not until they heard their client's name mentioned. The police had identified the woman at the clock tower as Constance Tovey, and after speaking with Mr Tovey, they were satisfied it had indeed been a suicide.  
  
Hannibal and the others had been sitting in the kitchenette, going over every detail of the previous night's events with Amy. Face had moved from his table to one of the beds, and lay with his head buried under the pillow. He still hadn't spoken to anyone, wouldn't even look them in the eye. He didn't seem to care about "rational explanations". When the identification was announced, he walked rapidly into the bathroom and closed the door.  
  
Murdock was sent to listen at the door. Just in case.  
  
Hannibal pulled Amy's attention back to the task at hand, knowing BA was watching Murdock over Hannibal's shoulder for any signals. Once Amy was back on track, Hannibal took a quick glance himself. From the look of Murdock, Face was probably losing anything he'd eaten that day.  
  
It was several more minutes before Face came out, brushing past Murdock like he wasn't even there. Though all had been shaken by the news, Face looked pasty and worn out. He sank back on the bed, once again shutting himself off from the others. When Hannibal tried to talk to him, he just turned on his side and pretended to sleep. He knew what he'd done, and his only reaction was shame. Knowing the name of the woman he'd killed made little difference.  
  
The next morning, Amy sat at the small table in the kitchenette, notepad in front of her. She was finishing up her plans for the next few days, She had appointments to meet with the head of the local historical society, the archivist of the local rag, and the local police department. Visits at the college, library, and county courthouse were also planned.  
  
One way or another, she was going to find out what was going on. Hannibal was having BA and Murdock go along, as both helpers and for moral support. He also wanted time alone with Face.  
  
He had a job to do.  
  
*****  
  
"Hey, BA, look at this." He moved over to the microfiche Murdock was perched in front of. On the screen was a short article from a nearby "big city" newspaper, telling about a woman who had donated her land to the state so they could build a local college.  
  
"Mrs Merringer?"  
  
"Yeah, but that's not the point. Look at the date of the paper."  
  
BA squinted. The print was faded and hard to read, even on the machine. Stepping back, he shook his head. This was just crazy.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal sat on the bed. Now and then he would remember to knock the ashes from his cigar, which smoldered in his fingers. He watched Face, who had moved back to the table, where he could look out the window, or into the kitchenette, or at the wall. Anywhere but at Hannibal.  
  
Hannibal knew better than to give Face sympathy. He neither wanted it, nor needed it. Not now. Now he needed someone who would look at things objectively, someone who could help him sort out what had really happened. Hannibal had Amy's version, but there were a lot of gaps. All the times they'd been separated. Something had to have happened to cause Face to act the way he had. Something that Amy didn't know about. Maybe Face didn't even know.  
  
Yet.  
  
Hannibal stubbed out the cigar and moved to sit on the bed nearest the table.  
  
"All right, Lieutenant. Time to debrief."  
  
*****  
  
The detective, obviously close to retirement, sat back in his chair and stared at Amy. She forced herself to look back calmly, though inside she was shivering. She thought Detective Dresser probably knew who she was, and who she was connected to. She would have to tread carefully.  
  
"So, you want to know about murder, eh?" Dresser sat up in his chair, leaning now on the desk. "Kinda coincidental, you coming in here right after that suicide. I know Mr Tovey wasn't happy with our investigation into those threats; heard he hired some private help. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you? Something that might cast a little doubt on Mrs Tovey's death?"  
  
"No, I don't, Detective. My paper's looking into a series on family violence, and how it's escalated. A friend of his suggested we check up here, that something had happened that we would be interested in. The Tovey misfortune happening now was, in fact, a coincidence." She was skating on thin ice, she knew, but maybe...  
  
Dresser chuckled. "Yeah, like they don't have enough of that down in LA. Well, miss, I'm too old, too tired, and too close to retirement to get involved with...certain matters. As to 'family violence', I think I know the incident you're talking about. A big deal. Happened years ago, though, long before I came on board. If you have a few minutes, I'll see if I can round up the report for you."  
  
*****  
  
"And then what?"  
  
Hannibal waited patiently for the next answer. Face seemed to accept that he had to tell his version of what had happened, but Hannibal had to push every step of the way.  
  
Face was staring out the window. Again. He had yet to look at Hannibal.  
  
"And then she was accusing me of wanting to...hurt them."  
  
"And...?"  
  
"And I started getting angry."  
  
"At Amy?"  
  
"Yes. No. Not...Amy. At...her, and at the girls. I hated them. I wanted them gone. And she was stopping me. I wanted them all...dead."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"To teach her a lesson."  
  
"Teach who a lesson?"  
  
Face did look at Hannibal now, lost and confused.  
  
"My wife..."  
  
*****  
  
Amy climbed into the van, and BA pulled into traffic. He'd parked several blocks from the police station, but it still made him nervous. Murdock turned in his seat, noting immediately that Amy looked shaken.  
  
"You okay, Amy?"  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, just..." She closed her eyes, trying to bring her thoughts together. "Okay. Did you find anything?"  
  
"Well, kinda. The land was donated for a college, but that was back in 1947. So I don't know how that house could've..."  
  
"Who donated it?"  
  
"A woman named Merringer."  
  
Amy swallowed. She felt cold suddenly.  
  
"Amy?"  
  
"In 1936, a man committed suicide after murdering his three daughters and their nanny. His wife was out of the house that night, or she probably would've been killed, too. Their name was Merringer."  
  
*****  
  
"Mrs Wherry, we've got a problem down in the stacks."  
  
Mrs Wherry sighed. "Can't you deal with it, Melinda? I have an appointment and..."  
  
"I can't, Mrs Wherry. We must have had a tremor or something last night, because the files all fell off the shelves, and they're scattered all over the floor - it's a mess!"  
  
"Oh, good grief, they'll be ruined! And I have a reporter coming. Well, she'll just have to reschedule." Mrs Wherry scribbled a note and tacked it hurriedly to her door, then bustled after her assistant.  
  
A few moments later, a light breeze came through, and the loosely tacked note soon floated along with it down the hall.


	14. Chapter 14

BA parked in the only shade available, and waited in the van while Amy and Murdock headed into the old brick building that housed the local historical society. Amy glanced at her watch as they entered, noting they were running a little late.  
  
They found the door to the director's office with little problem, but when Amy knocked there was no response. She tried the door, and it swung open to reveal an empty office.  
  
"I didn't think we were that late..." Amy looked around, but there was no one in sight.  
  
"I'll take a walk around, see if I can find someone. You wait here in case she comes back." Murdock headed off into the maze of shelves and exhibits.  
  
Leaving the door open, Amy stepped back into the office and sat down. She glanced at her watch again, feeling a bit of anxiety building. She knew the guys weren't really buying this whole scenario, but were confused as to what had really happened. She wasn't sure she believed it any more herself, even though she'd lived it. If it weren't for Face...  
  
He was the only thing really keeping her going right now. If she had been alone, it would be so easy to push the whole thing off as a bad nightmare, something she ate, hell, leaking exhaust fumes. Anything to explain it away. But she couldn't explain away that knife wound, or Face's reaction. Her vision blurred for a moment, thinking of the way he was reacting. Hell, who wouldn't, thinking you'd brutally murdered three innocent little girls...  
  
She heard a soft cough at the door and looked up. The light from the hallway shadowed the figure standing in the door, but Amy could make out a rather tall, thin woman, somewhat older than Amy. She stood, embarrassed.  
  
"I'm sorry, Mrs Wherry? I was late getting here, but the door was open, so..."  
  
"That's all right, my dear. I understand you're looking for some local history, on the Merringer family."  
  
Amy frowned. She hadn't known about the Merringers when she'd made this appointment. Then again, Detective Dresser had known whom she was looking for.  
  
"Yes, I am. I'm looking for information that wouldn't have made it into the police report." She blushed, hoping Mrs Wherry didn't think she was a scandal-monger. "I'm just trying to understand what really happened."  
  
"Come with me." The administrator turned and started down the hall, and Amy hastily followed.  
  
They walked past several exhibits and then turned into a small alcove. Amy stopped short, staring at a large painting.  
  
It was the house.  
  
"You may want to look through this." Amy brought herself back to the present with difficulty, and took the old photo album she was handed. She began turning the pages, a horrible fascination drawing her to the pictures of the family.  
  
"The Merringers were a very prominent family in the area. Mr Merringer had many business interests, and was quite...involved in all them. He married while middle-aged, to a much younger woman. Too young, some said. Perhaps they were right. She bore three children, all girls. The oldest was Mary, followed soon after by Linda and Barbara.  
  
"As was the fashion among the wealthy in those days, the Merringers hired a nanny to watch over the children. Unfortunately, that left the young wife with a lot of time on her hands. That, coupled by the fact that her much-older husband was away on business frequently, caused her to look for avenues of entertainment more suited to her age. She was not totally...discreet.  
  
"Just when her husband discovered her infidelities, I'm not sure, but he apparently put up with it for some time, preferring to ignore it rather than have his image tarnished. However, he started having some business problems, and together with her behavior, it led him to drink. He began arguing with her, and eventually came to believe that the children were not even his.  
  
"One night, he came home and found his wife was, once again, out with 'friends'. He drank himself into a rage, and attacked first the nanny, who apparently tried to protect her charges. Then he took the girls to the widow's walk at the top of the tower, and threw them off. Whether he was overcome with remorse or simply could not stand to live under the circumstances of his life, he returned to the bedroom, and shot himself."  
  
Amy looked up from the album, staring blindly at the painting. She had easily recognized the children, but the few photos of the parents were blurred. Even so, she was quite sure it was the wife she'd met at the house. Which, of course, was ridiculous. The woman in the photo would be in her seventies by now.  
  
"What happened to the wife?"  
  
Amy looked over at the administrator, and frowned. She was looking out of the window, and the light framed her features. Almost a silhouette, but not quite. Amy looked again at a photo of the wife.  
  
"You have a personal interest in this family, don't you, miss?"  
  
Amy nodded, a familiar buzzing at the back of her head. "Yes, I do. A friend of mine and I..."  
  
"Have you ever thought about the nature of miracles?  
  
"I'm not sure I understand."  
  
"When we think of miracles, we think of the basket of fish feeding the multitude, Lazarus, the blind made to see...all wonderful and mysterious. But we sometimes forget when the waters turned to blood, the Great Flood, the Red Sea. Monstrous destructions, and yet, done for the greater good.  
  
"Sometimes, we do things in life that affect others. In terrible ways. And then we find a way to...atone. We can't lose that opportunity, even if the means are...less than perfect. Like those...destructive miracles. We use the tools we have. And sometimes those tools are...damaged."  
  
The woman turned to face her now, and again, the buzzing in the back of Amy's head increased. Amy stared at her, unable to speak.  
  
"I'm sorry for your friend. I hope you can make him understand...it was necessary. For the other children. I could only do so much. There were limitations, and...requirements. I, too, had a price to pay. To watch, and see, finally, exactly what my actions had caused."  
  
Amy forced herself to look away from the woman, her brain felt like it was swirling in rings inside her head. She closed her eyes and grabbed her pounding head, dropping the album heedlessly to the floor.  
  
"Amy?"  
  
The buzzing stopped, and Amy blinked as she looked up at Murdock.  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
"Yeah, Murdock, I'll be okay." She sighed, feeling suddenly tired. So tired. But she had more work to do, now that she knew. She reached down and picked up the photo album. "I have to make some copies, and then we have another stop to make. But first we have to get Face."


	15. EPILOGUE

The van pulled to a slow stop, and quietly everyone stepped out. They walked a few yards across the deep green grass, to a large black marble stone. Large letters were cut into its face.  
  
Merringer.  
  
In front of the stone were several flat markers, each engraved with names, and dates. While the others stood back, Amy led a reluctant Face up to the markers.  
  
"Barbara, aged five years, one month."  
  
As she read softly, Amy place a photocopy of a picture on the marker.  
  
"Linda, aged six years."  
  
"Mary..." Amy swallowed, "aged seven years, three months."  
  
She straightened, and looked at Face. He looked much as Amy thought she had, back at the historical society.  
  
"I don't understand. They..." He faltered, shaking his head.  
  
"It wasn't you, Face. We were just players in a...a puppet show. I don't fully understand it myself, but believe me, it wasn't you that killed them."  
  
"That woman..."  
  
"She would've killed Tovey's children, Face. One way or another, she had to be stopped. Unfortunately, Fate chose this way." Fate, or something else...  
  
Amy nodded to the others, and they stepped up to see for themselves, and offer their collective support. She had done what she could; armed with the facts, hopefully Face would eventually be able to come to terms. She moved off, looking half-interested at the other markers. She stopped when she came to one that looked like the newest, set off just a bit from the others.  
  
"Ada Merringer, born 1911, died 1947."  
  
Amy carefully took out the last photo, of a tall, thin woman, and placed it gently on the marker. She hoped Ada, at least, was finally at peace.  
  
FINI


End file.
